Sympathy for the Devil
by noa748
Summary: Inhuman, blue-green eyes held me in place, full of anger and intent to kill. I was eighteen, but all at once I felt like a defenseless child. How could this be possible? Sephiroth was in my house. /Self-insert/  DEAD.  I'm sorry you guuuuys.  Sometimes you've just gotta kill your darlings.
1. Stormy Night

**A/N: OH DEAR GOD. PLOT BUNNIES WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME.**

**Yeahhh. I got bored...and the urge to write something FFVII-related just snuck up on me. I couldn't shake it until I wrote something, so I sat down and wrote. This is (shocker) yet another self-insert from yours truly, who can never seem to write anything else! -headdesk- Since the writing didn't turn out half-bad, I figured I'd publish it and see what people thought. The title is subject to change...I honestly couldn't think of anything, so there you go, it's a Rolling Stones song. B)**

**For those of you who know me, don't worry; I'm still working diligently (er...being attacked by writer's block) on my other stories. Into the Nightmare's next on my update list, though sometimes I do go out of order. XD**

**For those of you who don't know me...why hello there! XD**

**Yes, it's a self-insert. The character I use is based off of me and has all of my flaws included, and will (hopefully) react realistically to the scenarios she ends up in. She's not a Mary-Sue (and if you read this and believe otherwise, PLEASE tell me.) I don't use self-inserts to live out my personal fantasies (coughstepheniemeyercough); I just enjoy making bad things happen to my insert-character. For some odd reason. XD**

**Anyway, now that I've rambled way too much, it's time to get on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own FFVII, I don't profit off this, blah blah blah.**

**EDIT: Cut out a couple of unnecessary paragraphs; hopefully the pacing's a little better now.**

* * *

The dark room lit up in an instant, and for a moment the candle's flame wavered on its wick, as if it were about to go out. A slow, monstrous rumble of thunder rang out after the flash of lightning had faded. The house almost felt like it was shaking.

I watched the flame waver again, more strongly this time, and realized that it was my own heavy breathing that was disturbing it. Not the lightning…of course not. I pushed the candle away, maybe with a little more force than was necessary. Steadying my breathing was a more difficult task. What was wrong with me tonight? I was eighteen and used to being home alone, so why was I so on edge?

Part of me suggested that my instincts were trying to tell me something, but I pushed that thought away. It was ridiculous. Yes, I was alone in an empty house—my mom had left two days ago to visit our folks in Maine, and she wouldn't be back for another week and a half. But the doors were all locked anyway, and I lived in a pretty peaceful middle-class neighborhood in the middle of nowhere. I didn't have anything to worry about.

Okay, yeah. So the empty house was also _dark. _Central New York was experiencing a pretty big early spring thunderstorm right now, and there were a lot of power outages, hence why I had a candle sitting in front of me. But still, that wasn't anything serious. I didn't mind power outages; when the storm was over, I'd be able to see the stars outside for once.

If anything, it was actually pretty peaceful right now. Even though the rain was coming down in buckets and the wind was howling, the house was nice and warm and I was comfortable enough. I had all of my drawing supplies spread out on the kitchen table, and I was sketching by candlelight. That had worked out well up until the point my hands started trembling.

Something was really bothering me. I just couldn't figure out what it was. It wasn't even so much the darkness; the room I was in wasn't even really all that dark. I had lit plenty of candles. But the shadows…the shadows danced and flickered with the motion of the tiny flames. I didn't like that sense of movement in my peripheral.

I sighed, dropping the pencil I was holding. It was useless…I wasn't going to get anything done if I couldn't concentrate.

A half-finished doodle of a chocobo stared at me from the sketchbook page. Its cute cheerfulness didn't do anything to alleviate the tension I felt. For a moment, I considered taking some pills to help me sleep, and thought better of it. I'd have to put out all the candles if I decided to go to bed. The thought of falling into a medicine-induced sleep in a pitch black house didn't appeal to me.

I was doing it again. What did I think was going to happen? I was _alone_; that meant there was nothing here that was cause for concern. This wasn't a horror movie, and it wasn't Silent Hill. There weren't any monsters waiting for me in the dark corners of the house.

Maybe it was that dream I'd had earlier. The feeling had started after that dream…ugh, why had I even taken that nap in the first place? Everything had been okay up until I'd fallen asleep. Then I had abruptly woken up to a peal of thunder and a dark house. My skittishness had been understandable then, but it hadn't faded even after I'd oriented myself.

The dream. I couldn't remember all of it aside from bits and pieces, which infuriated me because the few details I could recall seemed interesting. There had been all kinds of contrasting images…a field of flowers, a burning house, an old church, a trail of blood…

A trail of blood? The image had just come to me, clear as day. That was a little unnerving…why had I dreamt about something like that? Whose blood was it? It felt like I'd seen the image somewhere before, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

The entire dream itself had had a distinct sense of familiarity. I vaguely remembered having a companion speaking to me, a man…someone I knew. Someone I really liked, actually, but his identity had faded out of my mind when I'd been jolted awake. He had been just talking to me at first, but then at the end, his voice had been urgent…he'd been trying to tell me something important, as if he'd known that I was about to wake up.

That was stupid. It was a _dream;_ the guy had been a figment of my imagination. I didn't even know any guys that I felt that strongly about. I had really…admired this person. Could I even think of any men that I admired that much?

I ran a hand through my hair, attempting to concentrate. He'd had…dark hair. And…ugh, I just couldn't remember his face clearly.

…_stream rejected him. If…like that, he'd…again and again._

What? But it wasn't coming back to me; all I could remember were bits and pieces of the man's words, fading in and out like a radio with bad reception. I _knew _that voice, but I just couldn't place it.

…_wasn't…choice. I'm…when I can. Sorry this…on you, but…as I say, then…_

Dammit! What had he been telling me? His tone had gotten a little nervous towards the end. There was some barely suppressed frustration there, too, but it hadn't been directed at me.

… _I hate to ask, but you're the only one I could get through to. Will you help me?_

_Yeah, _I had answered.

_I won't blame you if you change your mind._

Lightning flashed again, thunder following almost immediately after. Broken out of my reverie, I rubbed absentmindedly at my forehead. What had I agreed to?

Ah, hell. It had just been a dream; there was no sense in dwelling on it too much. Maybe it was the lingering memories of the dream that were making me nervous. In that case, then I didn't have anything to worry about after all.

But still…the tension remained, no matter what I told myself.

Another flash of lightning, accompanied by an enormous crash of thunder. I winced, covering my ears and shuddering. That had sounded really close. It would be just my luck if the house was struck or something. Maybe that was what this whole sense of foreboding was about. Part of me debated on going over to my sister's place, which was a five minute drive from here, but I decided against it. Driving in this weather, even for just a few minutes, would undoubtedly be terrifying. It wasn't worth it.

And then there was another crash, but this wasn't thunder. My blood ran cold when I realized the sound was coming from my garage. Suddenly my mouth was dry and my hands were trembling even more than before and I realized that I should've listened to that gut feeling and gotten the hell out of here.

My hand hovered over my cell phone for a moment. Call the cops? No…no, I didn't know for sure. It could have just been an animal taking shelter from the storm. I needed to…

Christ. I needed to go check.

The thought of doing that caused my heart rate to jump. I really, really didn't want to see what was out there. It was probably nothing, but then again it might be _something,_ and what would I do if it was?

Maybe if I just ignored it, it would go away…

There weren't any more sounds coming from the garage, but the silence only put me more on edge. Maybe I wasn't hearing anything, but I hadn't heard it leave, either. Whatever it was.

I took a deep, shuddering breath. There was no way I could just ignore it. Then I'd never get to sleep tonight, and I'd spend the next six hours being a paranoid mess. If I just checked, I could let myself rest easy afterwards.

Besides, I was a big girl. I was a legal adult and it was about time I started handling myself like one. There was no need to be afraid. This wasn't some densely populated city; I was living in a nice little development where everyone knew their neighbors and kids could play in the street for an hour without being interrupted by a single car.

Okay. I could do this. Just grab the flashlight, walk down the stairs…

I turned my flashlight on, heading down into the foyer. For a moment, I glanced between the two doors that were there. One of them led into the garage, while the front door led directly outside. If I just took the front door, I could run to my car and leave. Just go to my sister's place, tell her about it, and then laugh it off tomorrow morning.

Oh, fuck it. I was just being overly paranoid. It was just an animal or something.

Determined, I walked over to the garage door and yanked it open. It was pitch dark inside; for a moment, I faltered. Then I raised the flashlight's beam.

The light reflected off of the glowing, blue-green eyes of a beast.

Before I could even let out a scream, the figure had lashed out, and within the next second I was pinned to the foyer wall with a leather gloved hand wrapped around my neck. I couldn't do anything but gape. My mind seemed to screech to a halt; it refused to register what I was seeing.

Not a beast. Not a monster. That was my first thought. But those eyes…they _did _have a strange glow to them. Catlike slits instead of pupils. Was this real? _Could _this be real? Those cold, predatory eyes were narrowed with anger.

I could feel my entire body go limp with terror. The flashlight had clattered to the floor, but I could still see his face in the dim candlelight. Silver bangs framed a pale face with delicate but distinctly masculine features. Strong jaw, partially exposed chest, leather jacket, metal shoulder plates—

I couldn't examine any more. My heart was hammering away and I reached up to claw at the hand gripping my throat in a feeble attempt to escape. How had things changed so quickly? One minute I had just been checking the garage for animals, and now…

"P-Please," I choked out, aware that I was wasting precious air. I had read somewhere that humans could go up to ten minutes without oxygen and not receive permanent brain damage, but panicking and struggling drastically lowered that time span.

Telling myself to remain calm wasn't working. This man was going to _kill _me.

His eyes narrowed even more and his grip on me tightened until I was sure something was going to be crushed. Then the man suddenly shuddered and fell to the floor, releasing me.

I gasped, taking in as many lungfuls of air as I could, nearly beginning to cough because of it. Grabbing the flashlight off the floor, I stumbled backwards into the stairs. The man was on his knees near the front door, clutching at his side. Blood was pooling on the wood beneath him.

My hands were trembling almost too violently to hold it, but I brandished the flashlight as best I could. It was all I could think of to use as a weapon, though I doubted it would do me any good. My neck felt like one big bruise. Where was my cell phone? Upstairs. Would I have time to call the police? No…my eyes flew to the still-open door. I needed to run outside, get in my car, and get the hell out of Dodge.

But I couldn't move. I was frozen to the spot, my eyes glued to that man. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That _coat. _That _hair._

_The Lifestream rejected him. If things had been left like that, he'd keep coming back again and again._

The man I admired, the one who had spoken to me in the dream…Zack Fair. Zack had been telling me about Sephiroth.

Sephiroth.

"Oh my god…" I whispered, horrified.

The man's head snapped up, as if he'd forgotten I was there. Our eyes met and I once more ascertained that his were _glowing, _and no one could copy that effect. It was impossible. He had mako eyes, the eyes of a SOLDIER. It was too striking to be fake.

We stared at each other for a moment. The idea occurred to me that he almost resembled a caged animal, agitated and ready to lash out. I felt the blood drain from my face. What could I _do? _If…if it really was _him…_ there was no hope of escaping, not when he had inhuman reflexes.

But this couldn't be real. It just couldn't…

"Who are you?" He finally spoke. His tone was unnervingly calm, as if he hadn't just tried to strangle me moments before. And that voice, that deep voice…it was _his _voice.

I gripped the railing to the stairs with one hand, my knuckles turning white. "Th…This is my house," I said, my voice sounding a little raspy. "Who are _you?_"

Clearly he didn't care much for my response, but he didn't move from his spot on the floor. The pool of blood was growing. I wouldn't have normally answered so boldly, but something told me that my identity would have absolutely no meaning to him anyway.

_It wasn't really my choice. I'm gonna try to help you when I can. Sorry this responsibility got dumped on you, but if you do as I say, then it should be okay._

Zack's voice, hurried and desperate. He hadn't even sounded like he believed his own words. What responsibility had he been talking about? Getting myself brutally murdered by Sephiroth?

The man stared at me again. Then, after a calculated pause, he spoke. "You know who I am."

"Yeah, I do," I confirmed, still frozen in place. "Sephiroth, right?"

"Who are you?" he asked again, this time more aggressively. His eyes flashed with anger.

_Estuans interius ira vehementi… _

Goddammit, _no! _Think straight! Run, for fuck's sake, run!

"M-My name's Brittany," I replied, my voice small. "Please don't kill me."

Sephiroth began to get to his feet again and I nearly let out a scream, scrambling backwards up the stairs. The flashlight didn't feel like such a powerful weapon at the moment. I doubted that even a hard blow to the head would faze him. Because this _had _to be Sephiroth, and if I spent even a second doubting that it was, he would murder me.

"What is this place?" he demanded. "What—"

But then his eyes abruptly glazed over. He clutched his side again, letting out a grunt, and collapsed. This time, he didn't move.

I nervously inched over to him. After what felt like five minutes of staring at him, I bent at the knees and nudged his shoulder a little. He didn't respond. I reached down and brushed some of his bangs away from his face, and saw that his eyes were closed. He was unconscious.

Jesus Christ, the most notorious Final Fantasy villain was out cold in my house. And he was bleeding all over my floor.

"This can't be happening," I murmured, shaking my head. A million options raced through my mind at once, but I couldn't organize my thoughts long enough to think of something rational.

Was this Sephiroth? Was this _really _Sephiroth? The logical part of me was saying no, but really, that was the only way this would make sense. Who would make a costume this elaborate just to break into someone's house and attempt to kill them? No one could've gotten his costume that perfect. Even the best of cosplayers seemed at least a little off, but everything about this guy's appearance just _clicked—_even his voice.

"This can't be happening," I repeated.

This guy was the real deal. I couldn't just drive off and leave him here; if he disappeared into the night, who knew what kind of disasters he'd cause? But could I just call the police on him? This town's dinky police force wouldn't know what hit them.

He was bleeding. He was bleeding _everywhere._ Oh god, what was I supposed to do?

I shakily stepped over him, looking out the open door and into the garage once more. A quick sweep with the flashlight determined that there were no more surprises waiting for me out there. Had that crash I'd heard just been Sephiroth falling into my garage from…wherever the hell he'd come from?

I shut the door and stared down at him again. He didn't have Masamune with him—that was one thing to be thankful for, but it still didn't make him any less dangerous. He had inhuman strength that was probably beyond anything I'd ever seen before. He could snap me like a twig if he wanted to.

… _I hate to ask, but you're the only one I could get through to. Will you help me?_

_I won't blame you if you change your mind._

So that was what he'd meant. Why his voice had sounded so grave. Any person in their right mind would book it the second they saw Sephiroth.

But I'd said yes. I'd said I would help him, and I had a feeling that that was why this man was lying at my feet. _Why _had I agreed? What the hell had I agreed _to?_

_The Lifestream rejected him._

Or maybe he'd rejected the Lifestream. But either way, it meant that he could free himself from death much the way he'd done in Advent Children, and the cycle would just continue over and over. Until the day Cloud couldn't fight him anymore.

This was crazy. It was a _video game._

Was that why he'd been sent here? To end that cycle? But what good would being on Earth do him?

This was fucking insane! I couldn't believe…I just couldn't…I…

So much blood. Could Sephiroth die? The Lifestream didn't exist here. If I let him die, would that finally be the end of him?

_Help him._

"Okay," I whispered, feeling horribly lost. Those two words appeared in my mind and I clung to them, not knowing what else to do. "Okay. I can do this."

Lightning flashed outside and I nearly screamed, having forgotten about the storm.

Somehow, I managed to regain my composure. Bending over, I grabbed one of Sephiroth's arms and pulled it around my shoulders. Then I lifted. He didn't budge.

This was going to be a lot harder than I thought…

Without giving myself time to contemplate the complete absurdity of what I was doing, I began the slow and difficult task of carrying the silver haired man upstairs.

* * *

**A/N: This idea has probably been done to death, I know. I just really wanted to write something involving Sephiroth, but I kept drawing a blank. I've always wanted to do a SI where the game character ends up on Earth instead of vice versa, so this is what happened. :P**

**Uhhhh I don't know if I'll continue this or not. I'll probably write more at some point, but I'm not sure. This chapter was highly amusing to write, though~**

**Reviewwww! You know you want to. Also, constructive criticism is much appreciated. :D**


	2. False Calm

**A/N: Oh hey guys. ;D 'Sup?**

**Sooo I got a bunch of nice reviews and as always, I caved and ended up writing more of this. XD I'm prooobably going to continue this, though it's not gonna be top priority. I also have very little of the plot figured out at the moment anyway. I also haven't played FFVII all the way through in quite a few years, so I think I'll have to go back and start a new game. It's not plot details I'm worried about, it's characterization. XD Lemme know if you see any OOC-ness.**

**Also, this fic takes place post-Advent Children, but I've never played Dirge of Cerberus. So uh...there probably won't be any references to that. I wouldn't want to get the facts wrong. D:**

**...And yes, you'll notice that 'Romance' is not one of the genres this story fits into. XD Sephiroth falling in love with my character? Psh, yeah right...it's hard enough to picture him romantically involved with _anybody, _never mind some smartass teenager. XD**

**Anyway, I'll shut up now. Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sephiroth or his pretty pretty hairrr D: Oh yeah, and I don't own FFVII in general. Or anything else of real value. Poor me.**

It took me close to ten minutes just to haul the ex-SOLDIER up to the second floor of my house, where I laid him down in the middle of my living room floor. My progress was marked by a long trail of blood; the metallic scent only grew stronger as time passed, serving as a harsh reminder that the unconscious man could very well be on the verge of death.

No, that was crazy. This was _Sephiroth; _I just couldn't bring myself to believe that he would be able to die in a manner like this. I didn't want to entertain the thought that his life was in _my _hands—a burden like that was far more than I could stand to bear.

After finishing my first task, I paused to take a breather. The guy was heavy enough on his own, never mind the pauldrons and the coat. He was probably all muscle under those clothes. While under other, less dangerous circumstances I would be grinning at this idea, right now it just served to set me even more on edge. More evidence that this man was the warrior he claimed to be…great.

He still wasn't moving. All I could do for the next few minutes was watch him; I had never felt more conflicted in my entire life. Lying before me was the world's enemy, a man with a will so strong that he had been able to defy death. He was unimaginably powerful, highly unstable, and ruthless. The only logical thing to do right now was to let him bleed out, to end it all before he could cause any more suffering.

But I wasn't always a completely logical person. My throat was still sore where he had clutched it, and yet I couldn't stop myself from feeling panicked at the thought of him dying. I'd been raised with a pretty clear sense of right and wrong, and choosing to let someone bleed to death on my living room floor seemed inherently _wrong. _

Well aware that my actions might get me killed in the end, I let out a shuddering sigh and ran into the bathroom in search of first-aid supplies.

A thorough search of the cabinets revealed a package of band-aids, some gauze, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. I set the items on the bathroom counter and stared at them for a moment, fighting the sudden irrational urge to laugh. Something told me that I wouldn't be able to save Sephiroth with a fucking band-aid.

Regardless, I picked up the supplies and carried them downstairs, setting them on the table next to my sketchbook before heading back over to where the silver haired man was. Before I could tend to the wound, I needed to assess the damage, right? One step at a time…anything to avoid thinking about how horribly unprepared I was for this.

I reached down with trembling hands and started undoing the coat buckle at his waist. It was now that I noticed the leather was torn in several places—no, not torn, but cut. Slashed…the marks of a sword? As I continued to work, I couldn't help but wonder.

Before I could open the coat further, I had to unbuckle the crisscrossed straps securing the pauldrons to his shoulders. The armor came off easily enough once I figured it out; I pushed it to the side after a brief moment of awed examination. It was hard not to look at all of the signs of wear and tear on the metal. This was definitely the equipment of a seasoned warrior.

The belt came next. After a bit of fiddling, I managed to take it off, observing the insignia on the leather as I did so. It was the same design I remembered seeing throughout Crisis Core, complete with its own degree of wear. This really wasn't a mere costume. That fact continued to amaze me.

Finally, I gripped the coat and parted the material, fully exposing the man's chest. Then I promptly gasped and turned away. Even though I'd averted my eyes, what I'd seen was already burned into my memory. Dammit…it was too late to turn back. I forced myself to look.

All I had been able to see earlier was blood, but now it was easy to tell that it was coming from more than one source. The main problem was the large gash on his left side, just above the hip. On his right side, another similar gash was partially visible—I imagined it continued on to his back. He had various other cuts that were oozing blood as well, though not in such an alarming rate as the other wounds.

His back. If that wound continued on to his back, then…

I gritted my teeth, moving over to Sephiroth's other side and lifting him into a sitting position so I could remove his coat. He was so goddamn _heavy_. My shoulders still ached from carrying him up here.

Upon removal of the coat, my fears were confirmed. His back had two more long cuts aside from the one I'd already known about, and they were also bleeding freely. The fact that Sephiroth was still breathing despite all of these injuries was a testament to just how tough he really was. Jesus, how did he even have any blood left to _lose?_

I took a deep breath, gently setting the man down on his coat. At least the wounds on his back wouldn't bleed so much in that position. After a thought, I reached over and brushed his silver hair over to one side, where it wouldn't be stained. It was a silly thing to do, but I desperately needed to feel like I was helping somehow. Not that Sephiroth would be too worried about his hair in this state.

By now, I was shaking almost uncontrollably. What could I do? He needed stitches or something, and all I had was a box of band-aids and gauze that was meant more to cover up a scrape than to patch up near-fatal wounds. I couldn't just grab a needle and thread and pretend to be a doctor. He was already going to kill me when he woke up, but if he woke up to _that, _he just might rip me limb from limb.

The clock was ticking. I needed to stop being so indecisive and do something. The necessary medical supplies weren't here; there was only one option I had left. A drive to the hospital was out of the question—it was too dangerous, and not just because of the weather. I would have to brave the storm and drive to the nearest store and find something better. That would mean leaving Sephiroth here…alone.

Whatever. There was no time to think. I walked over to the counter, digging through my purse and making sure I had cash on me. Then I shoved my cell phone into the purse, pulling out my car keys and heading downstairs. An ominous rumble of thunder met my ears as I opened the front door, tugging my coat on to cover up the bloodstained shirt beneath. I was instantly pelted with rain.

In the next moment I was pulling the door to my car shut, starting the engine. I looked up at the picture window to my living room before backing out of the driveway. The soft glow of the candles was just barely visible, making the house look innocent and peaceful, a haven in the midst of the storm. In reality…I was already terrified at the thought of going back in.

The wipers could scarcely keep up with the amount of rain coming down. A flash of lightning lit up the sky. Somewhere, I could hear the wailing of sirens. Fire engines. Maybe my house would burn down while I was gone and solve this whole dilemma. But that thought just brought up the all-too-familiar image of a maddened Sephiroth walking through the flames of Nibelheim, and I shuddered.

Yeah, it was definitely going to be a long night.

* * *

"Heck of a storm, huh?"

The words of the cashier jerked me out of my troubled thoughts, and I smiled weakly. It seemed almost surreal to be going through the Wal-Mart Supercenter express checkout line after everything I'd just been through; the entire situation almost made me want to laugh. Brittany Furness, last seen at Wal-Mart buying conspicuous amounts of medical supplies. I could practically see this cashier's face on the news, chatting away about how nervous I'd looked and how she'd just _known _something was wrong, oh that poor dear girl. The woman would probably shed a tear or two for me—with the cameras rolling, of course—and then go home and excitedly tell her husband how she'd been on TV.

My smile probably looked forced at this point. "Yeah. Raining like crazy."

"I bet," she replied, typing a few things into the register. "Your total comes to $23.75."

I handed the money over to her, wincing a little at the damage. I had been able to find some larger gauze pads as well as some rolls of cloth bandages. They were relatively cheap, but I didn't know how much I'd need, so I made sure to buy a lot.

The woman handed me my change. Her smile faltered a little, and I saw the inevitable question coming. "Did something happen?"

"My mom was doing dishes by hand because of the power outage," I lied as smoothly as I could. "A glass broke and she cut her hand pretty bad." That was actually something that had happened, though that event had taken place about ten years ago. Until today, that had been the most blood I'd ever seen at once.

"Oh," the cashier said, raising her eyebrows. "That's terrible. Sorry to hear that. Make sure you take her to the hospital the minute this storm dies down!"

"That's the plan," I affirmed. After putting away my change, I took the bag she'd placed on the counter and offered another smile. "Thanks a lot."

"Have a good night," she said. "Be safe."

And then I walked away and she moved on to the next person in line. She'd probably think about what I said for a few minutes, but by the next customer she'd have forgotten me. Until she saw my face in the paper, that is.

I pushed the thought out of my mind before I started coming up with headlines. My future wasn't looking too bright, but thinking about this was just making me nervous to the point of nausea.

The plastic bag hooked on my arm crinkled quietly as I headed for the doors. If I tried hard enough, I could almost pretend I was carrying groceries. I smiled mechanically as I passed the greeter, and then paused, looking over my shoulder at the brightly lit store. For all I knew, this could be my last glimpse of what sanity looked like. I already felt like I was no longer a part of this calm atmosphere that was everyday life. This was practically the only place in town that was still open thanks to its backup generator; everyone here was suffering their own dilemma due to the storm, but tomorrow morning it would be back to business as usual. I wished I could say the same for myself.

Then I finally turned and exited back out into the pouring rain. The wind changed direction abruptly, whipping my hood back and sending stinging cold droplets of water into my face. By the time I got to my car, I was even more soaked than I had been before.

The short drive back home was as tedious and nerve wracking as it had been on the way up. Aside from that, it wasn't very eventful. I did note on the way that my sister's Jeep was still parked safely in front of her apartment building, and I was forced to ignore a sharp pang of longing.

_I won't blame you if you change your mind._

No. Too late to turn back. Besides, hadn't he said I was the only one he could get through to? The thought of running away brought a sick feeling to my stomach. It might be the easiest thing to do now, but there would be consequences. I could count on that.

The soft glow of candlelight was still visible in my living room's window. I hesitated after parking my car in the driveway. Then I made up my mind, grabbed the bag of supplies, and got out.

To my immense relief, Sephiroth was still lying where I had left him. I had been almost expecting to find him gone; with how my luck had been going tonight, it wouldn't have been much of a surprise. But he remained unconscious and unmoving, so I hurried to his side and pulled out all of the medical supplies I had bought.

The pool of blood around him had grown, and yet his breathing remained even and deep. His pulse was regular, his heartbeats almost in time with my own. Any normal person would be long dead by now. His resilience impressed and frightened me at the same time.

Regardless, I still didn't know just how long he could hold up. Rather than waiting to see, I reached for a clean cloth I had found in the kitchen so that I could use it to clear some of the blood away from the wounds. I felt lost and uncertain, like I wasn't doing any of this right, but I forced myself to keep going. It was either this or leave him to die…at least this way I was making an effort.

While unconscious, Sephiroth's face looked almost serene. I wondered how long it would remain so.

* * *

The sound of footsteps echoed through the old church as a blond man strode in. Sunlight shined in through the partially destroyed roof, bathing the inside of the building in a peaceful glow. Many of the pews on either side of the aisle were destroyed and there was still a lot of debris scattered around, but to Cloud Strife, nothing had changed; this was still _her _church, and just being here calmed him.

Balanced on one shoulder was an enormous blade, about one foot wide and tall as the man himself. Despite its size, Cloud grasped the hilt with a single gloved hand. The blade itself was worn, covered in rust and various scratches.

The blond walked deeper into the building, finally coming to a halt near the flowers—he was careful not to step on them, of course—and heaving the burden from his shoulder. He sat down on one of the intact pews and laid the Buster Sword across his lap. The sunlight shining in glared off the blade and lit up every single flaw etched into its surface; it almost seemed to be mocking him.

Cloud smiled a little, remembering something that Zack had told him about this sword's original owner. "Angeal would be turning over in his grave, huh."

He wasn't graced with an answer; not that he'd expected one in the first place. The dead could never reply, but sometimes those few words said in solitude were enough.

Running one hand over the metal, the man glanced around the church. Geostigma was cured, but there was still so much to be done. He was going to start by cleaning up the haven he'd come to call home…and by restoring the blade that carried the weight of three generations' honor and dreams. It was the least he could do after all that had happened.

The sound of his cell phone ringing pulled him out of his thoughts. For the first time in what felt like ages, he flipped it open and answered without even checking to see who it was. He had a pretty good idea already.

"_Cloud?" _Tifa's voice came, sounding genuinely surprised. _"You picked up."_

"Yeah," the blond affirmed. He wasn't going to make any promises to do it more often; he knew he'd just break them.

"_Well, I'm glad you did," _she said. Her tone of voice suggested that she knew this was a fluke. _"Are you coming home soon? Marlene's got it into her head that she has to learn how to ride a chocobo."_

Cloud blinked. "A chocobo?"

"_We passed the old ranch on our way back to Edge." _Tifa laughed. _"You've always had a knack for them, so I said you'd teach her. Today seems like a good day for it."_

He just shook his head, though he knew Tifa couldn't see it. These plans always seemed to pop up in his absence, no matter how brief it was. Though she was right; he _did _have a knack for the birds, but that didn't mean he particularly cared for them. He preferred his motorcycle…at least that didn't try to preen his hair when he wasn't looking.

"I'll be back soon," he replied. "Tell her to be patient."

"_He says 'be patient'._" Tifa's amused voice sounded farther away for a moment, and Cloud realized Marlene was probably doing her best to listen in.

"_We're always waiting for Cloud!" _He heard the girl's voice in the background, confirming his suspicions.

"_You'd better hurry," _Tifa said. Cloud could hear the smile in her tone.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," the blond said; he couldn't help but smile himself. The smiles seemed to be coming a lot easier lately.

They finished up their conversation, and Cloud pocketed his phone once more. It looked like he wouldn't be able to start on his project today, but that was all right. He had all the time in the world.

Standing up, he walked to one wall and leaned the Buster Sword against it. All it would take was a bit of cleaning up, and the blade would be looking proud as ever. Then he could finally put his past behind him and make peace with the events of the past few years.

Sephiroth was gone. It hadn't been an easy battle, and he'd come dangerously close to losing, but the outcome was what mattered. His old enemy's last words—that he'd never become a memory—echoed through his mind, but he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on it. For the past few days, he'd been feeling a sense of…of _liberation; _it was almost as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Somehow he knew Sephiroth was now in a place that he couldn't return from through sheer force of will. That thought alone was enough to lift some of the depression that had plagued him while Geostigma had run its course.

Cloud turned his gaze skyward. He finally had peace…and now it was time to go back to his real home, to his family.

"Thank you," he murmured to his old friends. Then he made his way back down the aisle, onward to a future that was looking considerably brighter.

* * *

Roughly two and a half hours later, Sephiroth was still very much out cold. At least I had made plenty of progress, if you could call what I had done progress.

His wounds had been cleaned and they were all bandaged up; the bandages covered most of his torso. Even now, blood was beginning to seep through in some spots. I was glad that I had bought a lot of supplies. Still, though, I had the feeling I would be buying more in the morning. At least now he wasn't bleeding all over the place.

I had moved Sephiroth to my couch (lifting him was once again a bit of a struggle) where he'd be a little more comfortable, and then I had started on another monstrous task: cleaning up the mess. There had been large pools of blood down in the foyer and in my living room, and streaks leading up the stairs and through my kitchen. A mop and lots of warm, soapy water had worked nicely, though I still couldn't seem to get rid of the lingering smell. Hopefully the storm would end soon so I could air the house out.

Then I had taken Sephiroth's coat into the bathroom, cleaning the blood off with a sponge and some hot water. There was nothing I could do about the tears in the leather, but this was good enough for now. By the time I had finished showering and changing into clean clothes, the coat was dry. I had carried it downstairs with me.

So here I was. It was just after midnight and the storm had died down, but only a little. I suspected the power probably wouldn't be back on until noon at the earliest. The candles I had set out were starting to burn pretty low; I was grateful that my mom owned a lot of them. I lit a scented candle, and soon the room smelled of bloody hyacinths. Beautiful.

"Sleep as long as you want," I told Sephiroth wearily, sitting down on the loveseat next to the couch. As long as he wasn't dead and he wasn't trying to kill me, I was happy.

He didn't even so much as twitch, his chest rising and sinking slowly with each breath. His coat was neatly folded, placed beside him on the floor. His boots, gloves, pauldrons and belt were all set next to the coat. Everything was as sorted out as it was going to get.

"He's really out of it, isn't he…" I muttered to myself, finally allowing myself to take a really good look at the man. This whole experience still felt surreal.

Sephiroth was about as well-built as he'd always been depicted. When he was unconscious like this and his face wasn't tense with barely suppressed rage, I could safely say that he was quite handsome. He had an almost otherworldly quality to him—though now that I thought about it, that was pretty fitting. He _was _from another world.

He was no cosplayer, that was for sure. I mean, his hair was silver. Not grey, but _silver_, and it actually looked natural, crazy as that sounds. It was always blatantly obvious with cosplayers that they were wearing a wig. His hair was silky, too; I wondered how he ever found time to take such good care of it when he was busy with one evil plot or another.

I shook my head; what the hell was I thinking? This day had really taken its toll on me. Now that I didn't have anything to busy myself with, I felt pretty useless.

Lightning flashed outside, the sound of thunder coming a few seconds later. It was quieter…the storm was beginning to pass.

Sighing, I took one last glance at Sephiroth before leaning back in my seat. Maybe I'd just close my eyes for a second; there was no way I was going to fall asleep with all of this going on. Just…just a short rest…

* * *

The man on the couch had long since risen from the darkness of unconsciousness; he now remained in a deep slumber, having dreams of his own. He dreamt of the Lifestream, of fields of flowers, of the Cetra girl he'd cut down…his sleep was peaceful.

But then he began to dream of Mother.

Sephiroth's hand twitched.

* * *

**A/N: Relatively uneventful chapter followed by a cliffhanger? I'm a terrible person. XD**

**Sorry I'm taking it so slow. Like I said, I really don't have much of a plot laid out yet, so I didn't want to jump into anything right away. I just thought I'd post the rest of what I've got at the moment to let you guys know that I will most likely be continuing. Now I've got to go work on my other neglected fics! Yay!**

**Pleeeease review. I really appreciate all the helpful input. ;D**


	3. Awakening

**A/N: HA, YOU ALL THOUGHT I WOULDN'T UPDATE THIS. WELL YOU WERE WRONG, I SAY! WROOOONG!**

**...sorry. XD**

**Yeah, I HAVE been working on this here and there and I'm sorry it's been so goddamn long, but this fic hasn't exactly been on the top of my priority list. But hey, I'm actually still writing it! Isn't that awesome? **

**Thanks for all the reviews you guys gave me during the year-long hiatus. I really appreciate the feedback, I do.**

**ANYWAY. Here's the latest chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

The sky overhead was the most beautiful shade of blue.

That was my first thought upon becoming aware of my surroundings. Then I felt the heat of the sun on my skin, and the comfortable breeze teasing my hair. Tall grass tickled at my calves, swaying slightly. I was leaning up against a wooden fence, though I couldn't remember how I had gotten in this position. Not that I could complain—this beat the nasty weather back home.

...Back home. Hold on a minute.

It was way too warm right now for me to be anywhere near my house. It felt like summer, and summer didn't really kick off in New York until mid-June. Not to mention it had kind of been storming out last I checked.

The fence I was leaning against bordered an open field; I saw a barn and a few other buildings in the distance. So it was a farm? As my eyes wandered over the scenery, they finally fell upon the sole figures present other than myself. They were close to the center of the field—two adults and two children.

...Their mount wasn't a horse.

"I'm going insane," I said to myself, my tone oddly lighthearted. If I had laughed, I was sure it would've come out as an awkward, nervous titter. "Sephiroth's crashed on my couch, I'm standing here about to watch these people ride an oversized chicken, and I am losing my sanity."

"Good to see you're taking it so well," a new voice came from right beside me, causing me to almost jump out of my skin.

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped loudly, swinging around to face whoever it was. In the process I almost tripped over my own feet, and had to use the fence to hold myself up.

My first sight was a set of bright blue eyes, as vibrant and striking as the sky above. They were sparkling with good humor. Then I noticed the wild, spiky black hair, the well-built body, the SOLDIER uniform...and of course, the tiny scar on his cheek. Such a minor detail, but so important.

No way. It was really him.

I gaped for a moment, before jerking my head over in the direction of the figures. "They didn't—?"

He shook his head. "Nah, they didn't hear you. We're not really here. I mean, we _are, _but not in a physical sense. Know what I mean?"

"I...guess..."

The laughter in his eyes was unmistakable. "Well, now that we're on the same page...I should probably officially introduce myself. Zack Fair, at your service!" He held out a hand, and I shook it.

"Um..." My brain seemed to be MIA at the moment. I couldn't think of anything to say to this man, this..._icon._

When he withdrew his hand, his smile fell a bit and he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I know we've kind of already met, but last time didn't go so well." The smile came back. "Well, on the bright side, you don't really remember it!"

"I remember the important parts," I mumbled, and then shook my head hard to clear it. "I'm Brittany Furness, and...I have no idea what's going on."

Zack leaned against the fence as well, crossing his arms as his expression sobered. "You know about Sephiroth."

I laughed weakly. "I know I agreed to help you. But I think you're really overestimating me. I'm just a clueless teenager...a clueless, _scared _teenager."

He lowered his eyes, a pained frown tugging at his lips. "If you're having second thoughts, I—"

"I'm not."

Those brilliant blues were turned on me again, this time filled with surprise. "You're not?"

"No," I said, wishing I felt the same resolve that showed in my voice. "I'm not naïve enough to think the problem will go away if I pass it on to somebody else. So...I'll try. But I want to know everything."

The ex-SOLDIER relaxed once more, turning his head to look back out over the expanse of field. I didn't miss the weary air about him. Knowing Zack, he was probably ripping his hair out with worry over all of this. He had sort of dumped this on me, but I couldn't bring myself to resent him for any of it. Considering who he was...it just felt safer to trust him.

"...Have you figured out where we are yet?" he asked after a short silence.

I glanced over at the barn, and then at the mountains in the distance. "Some chocobo ranch. That one near Midgar?"

"What about them?" He nodded towards the family. They were coming closer—one of the children was riding the bird, coming along at a very slow pace and being helped by the two adults.

"What do you..." I trailed off as I realized what he'd meant. As they drew near, I could make out the adults' more distinguishing features. The female was a shapely woman with long, beautiful dark hair. The man had a head of gravity-defying blond spikes.

Even closer. I could hear the teasing note in her voice as she spoke, see the too-serious look on his face. Finally he seemed to give up the cool-guy act, and a small smile touched his lips as the little girl on the chocobo laughed happily.

"That's..." I gulped. "You sure they can't see us?"

"A hundred percent," he replied with an encouraging grin.

"Marlene and Denzel," I spoke, pointing out the two kids. "The woman's Tifa. And...and that's Cloud. Wow..."

Speaking of icons...it was _so _bizarre to see Cloud Strife in the flesh. Almost as bad as seeing Sephiroth—except thankfully Cloud hadn't tried to strangle me.

"It's a good old fashioned family outing," Zack said, a look of contentment on his face as he gazed upon his living legacy. "The incident in Nibelheim...it changed him. The world became a darker place for him, and he hardened right up. But his smile—his _real _smile—that's always been the same. And he's been showing it more and more now that Sephiroth's gone."

"Sephiroth..." I murmured.

"Shinra's done. And the other two dangers to the planet, Jenova and Sephiroth...they're not here anymore. We took care of that part." Zack shook his head, letting out a sigh. "As long as they existed here...it was just going to be the same thing, again and again. Something had to change. I want to end it once and for all."

I watched Cloud lead the chocobo past us, quite close to where we were standing. Marlene was fighting to keep her balance; Denzel kept running around, eager to catch her should she fall. Tifa giggled helplessly—she had noticed the way the bird was fixated on Cloud's hair. Just as it was about to go in for the kill, the blond turned his head and gave it a warning glance. The chocobo balked, then looked away and feigned disinterest.

Strange as this all was, I knew it for sure...these were real people. I had had plenty of time to assure myself of the reality of Sephiroth, but seeing them here now was only further proof that I wasn't imagining all of this. This was another world; it existed, and I could see it with my own eyes. A world populated with living, breathing human beings—not characters.

I liked what I saw here. It would be nice to preserve that soft smile on Cloud's face. Would it be so wrong for him to stop playing the hero? For him to finally move on?

It was a difficult position I had been thrust into. If I changed my mind about the whole thing, I'd just be damning somebody else. There had to be something I could do...

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, giving Zack a sidelong glance. "I think I bandaged him up enough so that he won't die. But you want me to just...cater to a bedridden Sephiroth?"

"Bedridden?" His eyebrows flew up, and then he grimaced a little. "This is Sephiroth we're talking about. He'll be up and walking around within twenty-four hours."

"Oh..." I gaped a little as _that _sank in, and my legs suddenly felt like jelly.

"It's okay," Zack assured me hastily. "I'm not just tossing you to the wolves. I'm going to look out for you—and he should be more subdued if that..._thing _can't get to him."

The scorn in the word said it all.

"What makes you think Jenova—" I started, but lost my train of thought when I saw the look on his face change.

"Aerith?" He looked up towards the sky, eyes narrowing with concern. "I can't hear her..."

I looked up at the sky too, as if I could somehow catch a glimpse of whatever unknown thing he was looking at. But there was nothing to see—just the occasional wisp of a cloud, and a bird passing by. Nothing marred the beauty of the day. Nothing except that alarming expression Zack was wearing. The expression suggested that no, things were _not _under control.

"...Zack?" I tried. Part of me didn't want to know what was wrong.

He grew still for a second, listening to something that I couldn't hear. I strained my ears anyway.

Then he swore under his breath and abruptly turned to me. "You have to wake up."

"What?" I blinked, my eyes wide.

"Wake up," he repeated. And then, with a sense of desperate urgency, _"Wake up!"_

Feeling numb with shock and fear, I found myself looking past Zack, trying frantically to engrave the memory of this meeting in my mind. The bright sun, the happy family, Cloud's rare smile...

...He wasn't smiling anymore. He had paused where he was, staring directly at us, his brows slowly drawing together. Then he started to approach, his pace gradually quickening...

* * *

SOLDIER eyes. Zack's were lovely to look at, cheery and bright—like portals to the summer sky. Cloud's possessed the same sort of appeal, but there was a coldness, a sort of..._distance _there that suggested a more reserved personality_. _His reminded me more of the sea, ever-changing and infinitely deep.

Sephiroth's were also beautiful, but in the way a tiger is beautiful as it stalks its prey. That tense moment, the focus and concentration, the grace and poise before the inevitable pounce. Predatory beauty. His sky-blue eyes were laced with venomous green.

I had left the dream-world staring at Cloud as he approached, catching one last glimpse of our hero before Zack's yelling jerked me out of sleep. When my eyes fluttered open, for a moment I thought I was still looking at Cloud, that somehow he'd figured out what was going on and found me—but then I noticed that dangerous quality to those glowing eyes, and my heart just about stopped.

It was Sephiroth, standing tall in the center of my living room. Staring at me.

Impossible. He had been out cold—he was hurt badly—how could he be upright like that and not even _look _like he was in pain?

I scrambled to my feet so quickly my head spun. My first instinct was to back away, to put as much distance between us as possible, but the couch behind me halted any movements I might've made. It seemed risky to move any direction other than backwards, so I stayed put, completely petrified.

Sephiroth picked up my every movement with those catlike eyes, but his face remained unreadable. That alarmed me; I couldn't assess the situation if I had no clue what was going on with his mental state. Was he angry? Calm? About to have a mood swing and go psychotic again? My throat was still sore from the last incident.

I saw him clench and unclench one fist, and the corner of his lip twitched as if he was irked about something. His eyes narrowed the slightest bit and my heartbeat picked up.

"Where is she?"

"Who?" I blurted out before I could stop myself, and froze up in anticipation of the answer. _Please don't ask about Jenova. Please don't ask about Jenova._

"The Cetra girl," he replied, and that wasn't much better. He hadn't tried to kill me yet, but the situation felt terribly unstable. Adrenaline hit my system hard, and I found myself wired and ready to make a run for it. I was _expecting _to make a run for it. It was stupid—there was nowhere to run _to—_but the survival instincts were there all the same.

"Aerith?" I asked weakly. How much longer before he'd snap me in half and be done with it? "She's dead. You were there, remember?"

"I _remember,_" he hissed, giving me a scathing look I didn't care for. I'd have to keep my smartass remarks to myself in the future. "That foolish, meddling little girl...agent of the Planet. I underestimated her—I didn't realize she had abilities that would extend beyond death. But I put her in her place." Then his lip curled in a wicked smile. "Do you require similar discipline?"

I imagine my eyes were probably the size of dinner plates right about now. No response that came to mind seemed safe; that smile on his face wasn't quite stable, suggesting that the wrong words might send him into another blind rage. I kept my mouth firmly shut.

His eyes held me in place, pinning me like an insect to corkboard. He had neglected to put on his coat upon awakening, so his chiseled torso was still exposed—perfect, rock-hard muscles beneath smooth skin. All I could see was the raw power in that build; now that he was conscious, he was too terrifying to be attractive. One does not stop to admire the tiger whilst trapped between its jaws.

Sephiroth seemed to understand that he was going to receive no response. Maybe it had been a rhetorical question to begin with. Either way, that horrible smile remained. Had he smiled like that on Judgment Day, when the fate of countless innocents lay in his cruel hands?

I still couldn't make myself understand the reality of it. I _knew _this was the same man, and I knew what he had done, and I knew that world existed. But to picture Meteor, Jenova, the Shinra Headquarters...it didn't want to click in my head. That was still a fictional story to me. The images were just images, with no memories to give them true depth and meaning.

This man terrified me...but it was all of the things I knew and couldn't absorb that made me feel like I was drowning.

The silence felt like it lasted forever, but it was only a few seconds later when Sephiroth spoke again.

"The girl."

"I don't know where she is," I replied hurriedly, realizing that I had never answered his initial question. "I—I don't know why you'd think I would know. That is, I—"

He stepped closer, eyes flashing, and that was enough to shut me up. My heart leapt into my throat. I almost fell backwards on to the couch, but that would put me in an even more vulnerable position. Though my knees wanted to buckle, I kept myself upright.

"_She _knows were Mother is," he said in a low voice. "And you are my connection to her." He reached up as if to grip my shoulder, but then I felt the leather of his glove brush against my jugular, and his thumb came to rest in the hollow of my throat. It was an obvious threat.

Now he regarded me in a different light, his eyes calculating. "Perhaps if I were to kill you now, I could follow you back to the Lifestream."

"Th-That wouldn't work!" I protested immediately, and then realized by the expression on his face that I'd been backed into a corner. I had revealed that I did in fact know _something_ of use. But if I told him what I did know, what more use would he have for me?

"Oh?" That brush of leather against my throat again.

"This world. No Lifestream," I blurted out, fighting to stay coherent and choose my words carefully. "It's different here. Not like where you're from." When I couldn't read the look I was receiving, I continued. "I don't know how you got here or what I'm supposed to do with you, but killing me is the worst thing you can do at this point."

"I beg to differ." But he had cocked an eyebrow, looking mildly interested.

"You don't know anything about this world," I said, trying my hardest to sound confident. "But you showed up in this specific place, so I might be your only way of getting back." It was amazing that I wasn't stuttering. "Are you really going to act without knowing everything about your situation?"

A few seconds passed, Sephiroth silently staring me down. The fear was starting to make me a little nauseous. He probably wouldn't like it if I puked all over him; hopefully he'd do something soon.

Finally he raised his hand again, but instead of closing it around my throat, he pressed his palm to his forehead and closed his eyes. That was when I noticed how pale he was. Maybe he hadn't recuperated quite as much as I'd originally thought...he looked like he had a migraine.

When he opened his eyes again, he seemed a bit calmer. Was it just my imagination, or were those eyes a little less green now?

I was surprised to see that the rage had faded from his face. Now all I could see was frustration. If only I could see into his head...

"I want an explanation," he told me abruptly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"...I can tell you what I know," I replied slowly, "but only if you promise not to try to strangle me again."

The look he gave me at that moment told me that I should probably choose my words more carefully in the future. I really was trying, but it was hard to be tactful when you were scared out of your wits. The words just kind of fell out before I could stop them.

"...I will not strangle you," he said after a second, cocking an eyebrow once more. It occurred to me that all he meant was that he wouldn't use that particular method to end my life. Great.

I understood that that was the best I could get out of him right now. If I tried to set any more conditions, I would risk making him angry again. Besides...I had no way of knowing if he'd stick to his word anyway.

The fact that he wanted an explanation told me we might be able to talk this out. I could buy more time for Zack to figure out what the hell he was doing, at the very least.

I took a deep breath.

"Sephiroth...welcome to Earth."

* * *

One hour later, things were still just as tense, but I at least wasn't fearing for my life quite so much. The ex-general no longer looked psychotic. He seemed to be more...in control. Still not all that approachable, though.

I had explained everything I knew about the situation. What else could I do? Any chance I had to pacify him, I was going to take. I had refrained from mentioning Jenova or speculating on what Zack's plans might be, but that was about it.

Sephiroth had in turn surprised me by adding a few things he knew to the mix. The last thing he remembered was battling with Cloud—that explained the grievous injuries he'd come here with. Also, while I had been meeting with Zack, Aerith had shown herself to him. He wouldn't tell me what she had said, other than that he was now fully aware of my knowledge and that I had learned all of these things from something called Final Fantasy Seven.

I listened to all of this with some degree of incredulity. I hadn't even considered why Zack had been so casual about me knowing all sorts of things I wasn't supposed to. Zack and Aerith...they must have done their research about this world. Was that why they had picked me? Because I had more of an idea of what I was up against?

This was all so damn confusing...

After we got that necessary discussion out of the way, Sephiroth spotted my laptop sitting on the table near the couch and immediately abducted it. Now he was on the internet, reading up on who knew what. The user interface, which was probably completely different from what he was used to, didn't even seem to faze him. He seemed to have the device completely figured out in a matter of minutes.

I didn't disturb him. If he got sucked into the internet for a few hours, that was a few hours more I could live, right? There was such a plethora of information on the web that he might just stay on forever.

...Okay, that was probably too much to hope for.

The most I could do right now was keep myself occupied. If I didn't, this whole thing was going to drive me crazy. So I set about the task of brewing some coffee, knowing it was one of the few things that could make me feel better.

"How do you take yours?" I asked, leaning against the kitchen counter and glancing over into the living room.

"Black," Sephiroth immediately replied, not looking up from the screen.

So he'd been paying attention to what I was doing this whole time, too. The thought of even trying to catch that guy off guard was laughable.

Well, at least I had gotten a response out of him. I waited for the pot to finish brewing and then poured him a cup. Then I brought it over, setting it down on the table next to where he was sitting.

When I went back into the kitchen to get myself some, I noticed that he had picked up his mug and was absentmindedly taking a sip. He didn't make a face, so I guess he approved. Not that Sephiroth would make a face at anything, ever. Oh, hell...why did I keep attempting to read his expressions? It was useless.

I leaned against the counter once more, sipping at my own coffee and staring at nothing in particular. Part of me figured I should use this opportunity to sort out my thoughts, but they were about as sorted as they were going to get. I was at a loss of what to do and Sephiroth was more in charge of the situation than I was. All I could really do right now was wait for him to finish what he was doing and hope he arrived at some sort of conclusion that didn't involve my own gruesome death.

Walking into the dining room, I picked my cell phone up off the table and checked the time. Eleven in the morning. The storm seemed to have died down, and the weather app on my phone said we were bound to have sunny skies for the rest of the week.

It was almost noon and I hadn't eaten anything yet today. Now that I thought about it, I was pretty hungry. The power was back on too, so I was considerably less limited in my options.

I began going through the cabinets and the fridge, attempting to think of what I could make for lunch. Something time-consuming that would keep me busy. Finding something time-consuming wouldn't be too hard, since I wasn't the greatest cook and the simplest tasks took me ridiculous amounts of time. One time I'd had to Google how to chop an onion.

Thankfully I had an adequate amount of food in my house, so I wouldn't have to make a grocery run. I picked up my phone and looked up some recipes for soup. Eventually I settled on making sandwiches with some minestrone, and set about getting all of the ingredients together.

Everything started out great, and I immediately forgot about the source of my fears sitting in the other room and got absorbed in making the soup. Cutting up vegetables was easy enough, so naturally I immediately felt like a pro chef and started trying to do too many things at once.

The pasta was what got me. The recipe called for a certain amount of seashell pasta, which had to be boiled in a separate pot from the soup itself. I forgot about it within a record time of five minutes.

Suddenly I was startled by the sound of the lid being placed on the pot, and swung around to see Sephiroth giving me a look. The starch from said pasta had boiled out all over the counter, and probably would have continued to do so had he not walked over to correct the situation.

"Wha—oh, shit," I muttered, smacking my forehead. Damn pasta...why did I always forget to stir it?

That cocked eyebrow again. It was like he thought _I _was the crazy one here.

As if he'd heard my thought, he gave me a smug look. "...Is this a common occurrence when you're left to your own devices?"

I felt my cheeks turn pink. "I can handle myself just fine."

"Hmm. I'm sure." His tone was noncommittal, but I knew he probably thought I was going to blow the kitchen up.

He had the nerve to walk over, pour himself some more coffee, and then breeze on over to the living room once more to hog my laptop. I scowled. Well, it was a step up from the death threats, but—ugh.

Now I returned to cooking with renewed fervor, determined to make a meal delicious enough to wipe that smug look right off his face.

...What the hell was I doing? Hopefully Zack's task for me wasn't to be Sephiroth's goddamn housewife.

I shook my head at my own thoughts. Hopefully that much-needed explanation was coming soon...

* * *

It had been a few hours since they'd returned from the chocobo ranch, and Cloud was still moping around, looking troubled.

Tifa heaved a sigh. He'd been in a remarkably good mood earlier—she had even gotten him to smile a few times. Ever since the Geostigma crisis ended, he'd been lightening up more often. Still, though...something had changed earlier. One minute he was talking with the rest of them and guiding Marlene's chocobo along, and the next he had completely clammed up.

He had been staring at something, of that much she was sure. But whatever it was had gone by the time she tried to follow his gaze. Ever since then, he'd reverted back to that constant brooding state she knew so well. What could be bothering him? It was useless trying to ask—he never wanted to talk about these things.

She sighed again, wiping down the bar counter for the thousandth time. She could see her own downcast expression reflected in the dark wood. How many times had she stood here wiping the same counter over and over, waiting for him to come home from another one of his week-long excursions? After everything that had happened, she had been hoping all of that was over and they could finally be a family.

Footsteps. Tifa looked over to see Cloud enter the room; he exchanged a glance with her before going to busy himself with something in the kitchen.

"Cloud," she started, determined to get _something _out of him.

He paused. "...Yeah?"

"I—"

She was interrupted by the sudden sound of the bar's front doors opening. Her face fell—why the hell did somebody have to come at this exact moment? It was noon! She hardly ever had customers at this time of day!

"Yo," a familiar voice brought her thoughts to a halt. "Anybody home?"

Cloud and Tifa immediately turned towards the doors with almost identical expressions of surprise. The two newcomers regarded them coolly. Reno, as always, had neglected to iron his shirt. Rude neglected to take off his shades. Some things never changed.

"So you're here," Reno continued without waiting for a response. He smiled. "Good. We need to talk."

* * *

**A/N: What could Reno want? Who knows! But it's the Turks, so it's bound to be interesting ;D**

**Review and I'll love you forever!**

**Next time: Brittany's cooking masterpiece (gag) and other adventures! **


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